Mating Season
by Fairy Laughing
Summary: Part One of the Animal Instincts series. It's spring, and Angua is in heat and at work...


Disclaimer: Fear not, Mr. Pratchett and Mr. Pratchett's lawyers, the toy soldiers will be returned to your toy box once I am through with them. I make no profit off of writing this.

Warning: Sexual innuendo abounds. Sex scene is not graphic, but there none-the-less. R-rating is there for a good reason.

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_**Animal Instincts**_

_Part I: Spring_

_**Mating Season**_

_by Lily Frost_

- - -

Jack Frost's hold over Ankh-Morpork had loosened at last; spring was upon the air, loaning a softer wind to the normally, biting currents that swept through the city. It turned the snow that still fell down into, well, it was snow still, just melted snow, and it was less cold. The weather was getting warmer, the trolls were getting dumber, and Vimes knew that soon there would be flowers. He lifted his feet onto his desk, or rather the pile of paper that his desk must have been under because the legs came out of the bottom of it, and lit a cigar. He puffed idly.

Yep, spring was certainly on her way, he thought to himself. Duchess Ramkin's dragons were in heat -- well, more heat than usual -- and she was quite busy with her breeding program, leaving Vimes to the watch house. Dusk was falling, a little latter than usual, and the night watch was filtering in with it. Carrot was one of the first, always early, with Angua in tow. Detritus, Cheery, Visit and Colon followed, along with most of the other trolls, dwarves, humans and none-of-the-aboves. The golem Dorfl was fired up, and then came those who preferred to come by cover of darkness; Nobby and Reg Shoe, the zombie.

Vimes walked up and down the watch-house, handing out assignments and saying things like "Is that a new hair cut?", "I heard your wife's expecting. Congratulations!"And "That certainly isn't watch uniform. Take it off! No, not here!"

"Corporal Littlebottom, guess what you're doing today?"

"Dissecting dead bodies and trying to figure out how they died again, sir."

"Good guess! However did you know?"

"I was doing it yesterday sir. And the day before. And the day before that, sir."

"Well, today's doesn't smell as bad as the others; it's pretty fresh, and they've been keeping it on ice."

"I jump with glee, sir."

"That's the spirit."

"And me?" Detritus asked.

"You can... uh... talk to the new recruits some more, strike some fear into them, they've been slacking off lately."

"Yessir." A trollish hand bounced off a helmet.

"Carrot, Angua, sorry I don't have anything interesting for you today, but you've fallen behind on the paperwork again, so I'll have to ask that you finish that up today."

"Yessir, Duke Vimes, sir."

"Please Carrot, don't call me that."Vimes sighed.

"Yessir."

Carrot and Angua sat at their 'desk' in their 'office'. Their office was really a poorly parted section of the main watch room with only two old, ratty curtains separating them from everyone else. Their desk had once belonged to the Fool's Guild, a student desk, and was a rickety old affair of the sort that no matter how many wads of rolled up paper you put under any number of it's legs it would still wiggle at the slightest movement and send your writing utensil scrawling across the page. The chairs were child-sized, and very hard. It was also a graveyard for forgotten paperwork.

Angua sighed; she had really hoped that she would be able to run around a bit tonight, chase a few bad guys, distract herself. Duchess Ramkin's dragons were not the only ones in heat; Angua's wolf side was itching for some action. Although Lycanthropy hold's it's advantages, such as being able to rip a man's throat out should it please you, it also has certain disadvantages, such as being very in tune with your inner animal self.

Even just watching Carrot on the other side of the ridiculously small desk was getting her all hot and bothered. He was chewing the end of his pencil thoughtfully, managing to look both young and intelligent at the same time; not to mention extremely sexy to Angua's heightened sensitivity.

Angua glanced down at the form in front of her, dipped her pen in the inkwell, and then looked at Carrot again. Ink dribbled onto the form and she ignored it. She was getting mental images of Carrot, mostly ones with him naked and lying down, and one interesting one involving him, feathers and satin ties. No! She would not go further... think of something else... oh gods, the way he was chewing that pencil! She could gnaw on his pencil a bit-- agh, stop there! A safe topic, a safe topic... breakfast? She'd had oatmeal... Carrot with oatmeal, nake--**noooo! **What about weapons? Those were nice, safe, and utterly, completely phallic. She wouldn't mind being impaled on Carrot's sword, or just Carrot for that matter...

Angua rubbed the pen against her cheek, and then started sucking on the end enticingly. She reached for a sheet of paper at the same time as Carrot, and their fingers just brushed away. He pulled his hand back and she quickly took the sheet, blushing lightly. His hands, oh gods, his large, long-fingered, hands; rough on the palms and pads of his fingers, but soft as a baby's skin along the top -- and so talented! Double-jointed fingers! Angua shifted in her seat and loosened her armour.

Oh, yes, he was a cutie, with his pencil tapping on the desk incessantly and his red hair falling into his eyes -- he looked so innocent!

She kicked off her boots and socks, managing this with her feet alone, and then ran one foot seductively along his muscular calve. He didn't look up, so she continued, up, up, up! Now he did glance over, seeing her do some fancy tongue work on the pen.

"Er, would you like some more foot room?" Carrot asked.

"No."

"Oh." He continued working. Her feet were working their way up, and Carrot was looking increasingly flustered.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't mind moving..."

"I'm fine." She flicked her hair. "Please, don't move on account of _me_..."

"You look a little... hot." He observed.

_Oh, but she was! "I am." Angua gave Carrot a pointed look._

"Shall I open a window?"

"No, no..."

"Okay, then." Carrot again, started working, easily ignoring Angua's travelling feet and eyes. She was sweaty and her eyes glimmered strangely -- this was very unlike her.

"Are you alright?" He asked at last, putting down the poor, abused pencil

"I'm in heat." She admitted at last.

"Oh, we could change places, it is cool over here."

"No, not hot like that."

"Do you have a fever?" He stood up, suddenly very concerned, and put his palm to her forehead. She moved closer, close enough to smell him.

"Not like that either... I am hot for you.?

"Pardon?"

"I want _you_."

"I am right here."

"_Alone_."

"For what?"

"For the pleasures of the flesh."

"Whose flesh?"

"Ours. I want to... explore the gardens of delight with you."

"Well, I have Friday off. Where are they?"

"Er... I want to hold your sword."

"Sure." He stood up and unbuckled his sword from his belt, holding it out to her.

"No, no, your other sword."

"I left my other one at home..."

"Ah.. I want you to take me..."

"Take you where?"

Oh gods, how dense could a person be... Angua thought. "The brink where pleasure and pain meet."

"Isn't that in Klatch? Are the Gardens of Delight nearby?"

"No, no... I want you to make me howl!"

"You want me to slam your tail in the door again?"

"No! I want... le petit mort."

"Aw, Angua, this paperwork isn't bad enough to wish for death..."

So much for being subtle. "I mean that I'm in heat as a werewolf."

"Oh." Realization seemed to dawn on Carrot. "Colon has a pair of sheep shears we could use later, if you like."

"Sheep shears?"

"To cut your fur down with."

"Er, no, in heat as in it's that time."

"But the full moon was last week."

"About two months before puppies are born."

Carrot tried to work this out in his head. After a full (agonizing) four minutes he said. "Oh... mating season?"

"Yes!"

"So you want to..."

"Yes! Yes!! **YES!!!**" A few heads turned in their direction. "_Please_." Angua said meekly.

"I could come over this morning..."

"No good."

"Tomorrow?"

"Now." She growled.

"Angua! We should be working."

"Can't concentrate."

"Well..."

"Please Carrot, we'll be fast."

"Here?"

"This way." She seized his hand and led him into the hall and a small room that smelt of various alchemy tools, with a vague undertone of old privy. Constable Littlebottom landed in the hall outside, on her bottom, indignantly. She turned around and started pounding on the locked door. "Oi! Hey! I was working in there!"

Muffled noises came from inside. "Mmph... Carrot... mmmn..."

"Angua!" A gasp. "are you... mmm... humping my leg?"

"Ah..." Angua continued to kiss Carrot, pinning him against the wall, and soon armour hit the floor with clongs.

She gave a delighted gasp once she'd gotten of his breeches; she was pleased, as always. "You certainly _aren't a _dwarf underneath..."

Littlebottom blushed and shuffled away, murmuring, "Some things you just weren't meant to overhear."

Angua ran her hands along Carrot's well muscled chest, and he did the same to her, though it was more of a squeezing motion.

"Mm... **take me**!" She cried.

"Where?"

"Skewer me!"

"No!"

"How about... put tab C into slot A?"

"What are we building?"

"Your tower..."

"But I don't want a tower..." Carrot raised his voice to a whisper, in that way that he did when he wanted to be subtle but usually ended up informing the entire vicinity of what had just happened. "I want to have sex with you..."

"Then do it already!"

A long, low, moan sounded through the watch house.

"Oh yeah, right there..."

"Mmm..."

"Talk dirty to me..."

"Mud, dust, the Ankh river, Vime's desk, dirt, rotting cabbage, Nobby's laundry, Nobby..."

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fin

le petit mort, 'the little death', a French expression meaning an orgasm


End file.
